


Ready, Aim, Fire

by MissSalad



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSalad/pseuds/MissSalad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by an Imagine Your OTP post. <br/>“Imagine your OTP pointing guns at each other, tears in their eyes, because they’re both commissioned to kill.”<br/>Sherry is stationed in a South American jungle looking for potential B.O.W.s. It just so happens that Jake is there too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready, Aim, Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I've titled this after the Imagine Dragons song, because it always manages to play when I'm writing.  
> Most likely this will only be two chapters. Potentially just one depending on how long the rest is.

Jungle air stuck hot and humid to her skin. Mist from the early morning rain still clung to the mossy ground. Agent Sherry Birkin stepped carefully through it, avoiding roots as much as possible. The layers standard issue combat armor weighed her down. It seemed a bit much for a recon mission, but she wouldn't complain. It had taken quite a bit of pandering to gain permission for this assignment and she wouldn't let it slip away from her.

She and a team of 6 trekked through the rainforests of South America, multiple borders crossed, and their exact location escaping her. Sherry focused on the coordinates alone, the rendezvous slowly growing closer. Her average mission would've had a Jeep and a smaller team, but rumors of terrorist activity hidden with the shadows of the jungle gave rise to caution. They were looking for a base, or even bases. Some solid evidence that the intel hadn't been a goose chase.

The commander gave signal, stopping a few paces ahead of her. Sherry watched the helmeted head look from one side to the other. Her confusion passed when she realized the same thing he had: it was quiet.

Throughout the entire trek the shrieks, howls, and cries of every animal imaginable followed them. Never seen beyond a quick flurry of movement, but always present, always known.

Sherry glanced over to see if the others had noticed too, when something cracked against her helmet, knocking her into the underbrush.

Stars flashed before her eyes, and even when they cleared her vision remained blurry and scattered. She could hear the others fighting, gunfire going off rapidly and randomly, yet it all seemed muffled, as if it was farther away. As suddenly as it had began, it stopped. Silence overtook them for a moment before the wildlife filled it with their calls and cries once more. Sherry strained to listen for the attackers, but could hear nothing of them. Slowly, she sat up from beneath the ferns, hand reaching for her pistol out of instinct. Her breath caught in her throat.

Before her lay her dead team. While her vision still drifted, she could see the bloodstains and their empty pockets. Spent shells lay scattered around them but their guns were gone. With a shaky breath and eyes stinging with tears, Sherry brought herself to her feet. She removed her helmet, partly out of respect, and partly because it was cracked. Her commander lay ahead, still at point. Carefully she stepped over the others and knelt beside him. His DSOcom lay nearby, the screen cracked, but functional. The estimated target was so close. They had more than enough confirmation of hostiles in the area; the least she could do is find out where the bastards were hiding.

\---

Who knew a jungle could be more boring than America? When Jake signed up for this gig, he didn’t think it meant standing guard for 8 hours a day, protecting his lunch from thieving monkeys. He sighed and leaned against the shoddy wire fence behind him. This was his fault, he supposed. He had left saying that the calm life made him itch, that he lived off adrenaline. At least up north he could go four wheeling or skydiving for his rush.

An irritated call from behind the fence told him it was time to make rounds. Jake waved them off, pushing away from the metal and into the trees. If he were honest with himself, he would drop this place. He’d been set up in some pretty sketch situations before, but most had the decency to let on what they were fighting, or, protecting, in this case. He had only ever been in one of the buildings in this camp, and that was the barracks. The others didn’t look any different, short, ugly, and hidden beneath artificial trees to mimic the canopy above. What set off alarm bells was the frequent nightly deliveries to these other buildings. Word between the other mercs proved that they didn’t know anything either. The higher-ups were rarely seen, and their little messenger boys never said a word. Jake gave the fence a final mistrusting glare as it disappeared behind the trees and brush.

Rolling his shoulders and unholstering his gun, he stepped through the dense ferns and over the winding roots. He supposed it didn’t really matter. Until his visas were re-approved, he had no legal means of leaving. Not that he was against the alternatives, but they’re usually messier, and he preferred to avoid them when he could.

Behind him, a twig snapped. Jake wheeled around, finger on the trigger when he saw her. Blue eyes widened in shock, the too-late registering of who stood before them as gunfire echoed through the jungle.


End file.
